


The Twist

by evvykurler



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking Competition Show, F/M, Reality TV, enemies to ??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-09-15 03:58:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16926066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evvykurler/pseuds/evvykurler
Summary: When Peeta Mellark and Delly Cartwright join forces to compete on a reality television baking show, they’re set to win. But when Peeta’s baking nemesis appears, he realizes nothing is as it seems on the set of The Twist.





	1. Opening Sequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, and this story is not for profit.

There’s ten minutes before the competition is supposed to start, and my teammate is nowhere to be found.

The producer sent me to look for her, so I’ve been pacing the length of the cramped backstage hallway looking in every dim corner and crevice.

I’ve just walked past the vending machines when I hear someone exhale. I back up a few steps and sure enough, I spot her blonde head bent over her knees as she sits wedged between two of the machines.

I crouch down so I’m eye-level with my best friend.

“Is there room for one more?” I paste on a reassuring smile, although I’m feeling worried. It’s not like Delly to run off. I noticed she was unusually quiet on the ride to the studio this morning, but I chalked it up to being awake before dawn to get ready for the show. I didn’t think she was this nervous.

“Hey, Peeta,” Delly says in a small voice.

“What’s up?” I ask casually, as if we aren’t due on stage in a few minutes.

She draws in a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she says, running her fingers through the end of her ponytail. “I just got nervous.”

“It’s no problem, Dell.” I extend a hand to her, and take it as a good sign when she squeezes my palm.

“Want to get up?” I ask.

Delly nods and I help her out of the vending machine nook. She’s still looking shaky, so I think of something to say to help her focus.

“How long have we been preparing for this?” I ask. “Ten months?”

“Eleven,” she answers. She twists her apron in her hands.

“Who has the most successful home bakery in Capitol City?” I say.

“I do,” Delly looks me in the eye, and I see her shoulders straighten.

“And who’s going to win?”

“We are.” Finally, I get a smile out of her.

After hours of make-up, wardrobe and interviews, not to mention the months of screening before Delly and I were selected, we’re finally here, backstage at the greatest baking competition show ever created. Delly’s nerves aside, I _know_ we can do this.

“Five minutes!” someone shouts. I glance into the crowd of production people.

“Peeta,” says Delly, trying to get my attention. “I got you something.” She hands me a white apron with “Delly’s Delights” printed on it in purple cursive lettering, which is an exact replica of the apron she’s wearing.

“This is great!” I smile and after all of that fake smiling for the producers, I’m pleased that this one is genuine. “Thank you.”

I immediately tie it on, and together we’re a matching set. The producers thought we were related when they first interviewed us for the show. The truth is we met before we could even talk and have been friends for almost all our lives. When Delly called and begged me to be her teammate on the show, I knew I couldn’t let her down.

Delly started a home-based custom cupcakes bakery a few years ago. Her business has done so well that she wants to expand and set up her own storefront. If we win, we agreed to split the money in half, although I plan to donate my winnings to her. Delly’s business needs it more than I do.

“Places!” shouts one of the producers, and strides up to us while impatiently tapping her nails against a clipboard. “Delly and Peeta, stand here,” she guides us to the double glass doors that lead to the stage. “Walk to your station on the back right, then wait for Flickerman, okay?”

I turn to Delly. “Ready?”

She looks paler than usual, but nods. “Let’s do this.”

The doors swing open and I put on what I hope will be a charming smile. I scope out the set. At the other end of the studio is a raised platform with a table and three high-backed chairs. Between the judge’s table and the glass doors are four prep stations, one for each team. I immediately forget which station is ours. Luckily, Delly remembers and guides me to the one closest to the glass doors.

The studio lights reflect off of the stainless steel tables and ovens of our station. I recognize the stand mixer, which is the same model as the one I use everyday in my bakery. Weirdly, I feel right at home.

The producers wouldn’t tell us beforehand who the other teams were. I’m surprised to see Cato and Glimmer of Capitol Cakes laughing and high-fiving in the station between us and the judge’s table. I’ve met Cato before. In fact, he actually encouraged me to enter a baking competition two years ago. I push that thought away and try to focus.

Some bakers that I vaguely recognize are in the station across from Capitol Cakes. The man is looking around, probably trying to assess the teams. His partner stands next to him, a short woman with dark brown hair drawn back into a tight ponytail. I think they run a specialty bakery in Capitol City, so I figure the producers have selected bakers from our city. If so, it’s to my advantage - Cato is probably the biggest competition, but I think I could take even him on in this fight.

I turn to look at the station to the left of ours, and my mouth goes dry. There’s no way I can mistake those grey eyes.

It’s my worst enemy.

I stumble backwards, suddenly overwhelmed by the shouts of producers and bright lights of the studio. My palms start to sweat and I curl them into fists, hoping no one will notice.

There, standing before me, is Katniss Everdeen.

* * *

 

I don’t think she’s seen me yet, judging by the lack of yelling. I try to smile, since the cameras are taking shots of the contestants waiting. Flickerman must almost be here.

“Quiet on set!” someone shouts, and the next thing I know Flickerman is strolling down the center aisle, speaking into a camera that is rolling in front of him.

“Welcome to _The Twist_! I’m your host, Caesar Flickerman!” His hair has been dyed to match the striped magenta and teal walls of the studio, which makes him look like a very colorful skunk. “Today our contestants will bake to impress the judges and one lucky team will win ten thousand dollars!”

He spins around in front of the judge’s table to look at another camera. “Our contestants will face a new twist in each round.” Caesar winks and gestures at a rhinestone-encrusted box behind him, which contains the three pre-determined twists. He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with enthusiasm.

I try to listen, but seeing Katniss has completely thrown me off my game. I only catch snippets of Caesar’s opening monologue as I force myself to release my fists.

Katniss Everdeen has had it out for me ever since the annual Harvest Festival two years ago, where Mellark Bakery won first place in the pie competition. Katniss accused me of stealing her secret plum pie recipe, which I vehemently denied. I tried to point out that I’ve been baking since before kindergarten, and I own a third-generation bakery. Why would I need to steal her recipe to win? She didn’t believe me, and to this day hates my guts.

The feeling is mutual.

I still remember the way she stormed up to me that day in the square, her eyes flashing. Stupidly, at first I thought she might be coming to congratulate me. We’d met before, when I’d visited her bakery the summer before the Harvest Festival. We weren’t friends, but I’d always thought that we could be, given our shared profession and city. But that day ruined any hope I had. Instead of congratulations, she accused me of cheating. When I wouldn’t cop to it, she yelled at me in front of half the town.

To make matters worse, it seems everyone in town picked a side. I endured suspicious glares from long-time customers, and even my dad tried to sit me down to “talk about honesty.”

Don’t even get me started on what my mom said.

I snap back to the present as Caesar introduces the judges. “Our first judge is world-renowned Effie Trinket. She took the world by storm with her famous chain of sweet shops, Trinket’s Treats!”

“Hello, darlings!” Effie Trinket is beaming at us all, a tiny cherry-red hat pinned to the top of her mountain of pink curls. I stifle a smile. She even _looks_ like a cupcake.

Caesar moves on to the man standing next to her. “Next, introducing Haymitch Abernathy. Owner of world-class restaurant Abernathy’s in New York, he’s known for perfection in every element of dining.”

I lean forward, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of producers and cameras. Abernathy’s been my idol since I was a kid. He’s been on a million cooking shows, since audiences love his gruff demeanor. He’s also a pastry genius. When I first saw a ten-tier wedding cake designed by Abernathy, I was so inspired I tried to replicate it.

My brothers like to remind me of the spectacular fall of eight of the ten tiers.

I was eleven, okay?

Abernathy’s lanky blond hair covers most of his face, but I can see piercing eyes evaluating all of us. Caesar looks like he’s having the time of his life. “Last but not least, our special guest judge!” He strides over to a man who looks more like a rock star than a baker. His ears are pierced and his eyes are outlined in black. I don’t catch his name, but he looks familiar.

I feel the back of my neck burning and look sharply to my left. Katniss is glaring daggers at me, which is fitting given her steel-colored eyes. I feel my jaw tense and I look away, determined not to let her get to me.

Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe we can settle this exhausting feud once and for all. I smile to myself, imagining Delly and I hoisting the famous Twist Cup in the air after showing all of Capitol City who the best bakers are once and for all. I look back but Katniss has turned away.

Behind her stands Gale Hawthorne. Tall, dark and irritating, he follows Katniss like a bad smell. I’m pretty sure the two of them are dating, although I have better things to do than keep tabs on Katniss’ love life.

“Didn’t know they’d be here,” Delly whispers at my side.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to win.” I smile reassuringly at her, and she seems to brighten up.

“Maybe we should whip out that plum pie recipe,” she says, and I groan. Not this again. “It could be a winner, you know.” She winks at me.

Have I mentioned that I didn’t steal Katniss’ recipe?

“We’re winning fair and square,” I whisper back. “Just like I did _before_.” I look at her meaningfully, but she just giggles.

“You know I’m just joking.” She turns back to look at Caesar, and I take some deep breaths. It’s almost time to start, and despite Katniss being here, I can’t wait. This kitchen is state of the art, with a huge blast chiller that costs more than my car.

Caesar is still prattling on, now clueing the audience in to the rules.

The rules of _The Twist_ are simple. Four teams, three rounds, and one team goes home with ten thousand dollars. At the beginning of each round, Caesar announces a twist. I remember one round when the bakers had to replace all their spoons with forks, and another round where the bakers couldn’t use refined sugar. Luckily, I don’t think it could get any worse that that.

I tune in when he says “Now, for the first twist!” He smiles at the camera, then approaches the raised table.

Caesar plucks the first card from the box and makes a show of clearing his throat.

“Teamwork is the key ingredient in this episode of _The Twist_ ,” he reads. I look over at Delly. That doesn’t sound too ominous.

“A good teammate can work with anyone. In Round One, each contestant will be paired with a new partner.”

I can’t help it. My jaw drops, and Delly gasps. I see a camera zoom in to capture our reactions.

“Bakers,” calls Caesar. “Send one person to choose a new partner!” Cato cracks his knuckles, and I see Gale’s shoulders slump.

“I’ll go,” says Delly grimly. She pulls me in for a quick hug, although I’m too stunned to do anything other than pat her on the back. She heads up to the judge’s table and joins the others. I see Cato, the man from the team next to Cato, and Katniss lined up with her.

I pray that we somehow get out of this.

At the very least, I think I could work with most of the people here. Even Gale, although just the thought makes me grit my teeth.

There’s only one person I absolutely couldn’t deal with, but I figure the odds of that happening are pretty slim.

I watch Cato get paired up with the woman I vaguely recognized before, whose name turns out to be Clove. Next, it’s Delly’s turn and she steps up to the glass bowl. She reads out Gale’s name, and I grimace in sympathy. Now I’m getting really nervous, because it’s Katniss’ turn and there are only two names remaining in the bowl. I watch her take a deep breath before picking up a folded card.

 _Not her,_ I think. _Please, not her._

I can’t mistake the look of horror on her face when she unfolds the paper and reads the name. The way she looks up at me makes my stomach drop.

I know whose name is written on the card.

Her glare meets mine and I’m sure the cameras are loving it. I bet I’m pale as flour while Katniss looks like she’s going to punch someone.

Oblivious, Caesar puts on a blinding smile. “May the best team win!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) 
> 
> Thanks to my beta (not on Ao3) whose advice and encouragement are the secret spice. I can't promise an update before the New Year, but I plan to continue!
> 
> Last but not least, thank you to all the baking competition shows that inspired this piece.
> 
> I'm currently looking for another beta to help with the next chapter, so if you're interested let me know! I'm on tumblr @creamytinydays :)


	2. Round One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, and this story is not for profit.

If only they hadn’t been paired together.

Katniss’ fingers close around the paper holding Peeta’s name, crumpling it.

She shoots a glance at Peeta, who is standing by his workstation, his arms crossed and blue eyes dark with anger. Irritation flashes through her. After all, _he_ doesn’t have a right to be angry. He’s the one who stole a competition from her before, and now with this twist, she can feel her dreams of winning starting to slip through her fingers.

And if they did win, what then? Instead of taking $10,000 back to her bakery, she’d have to split the prize money with him. Her stomach clenches at the thought.

Katniss surveys the four workstations, set out in two rows. She and Gale had been assigned the station in the back right, across from Peeta’s and diagonal from Cato. Shelves of ingredients and equipment line the walls of the set. The new teams are greeting each other, but Katniss ignores Peeta and decides to say good-bye to Gale.

Katniss makes her way to the steps leading down from the raised platform. Cato is blocking the base of the steps, loudly introducing himself to his new partner. She hops sideways off the bottom step to get around him since he can’t be bothered to move. Typical.

She’s always disliked Cato, ever since he cheered Peeta on during the Harvest Festival pie competition. She remembers the triumph in Cato’s eyes when Peeta won the trophy for best pie. It isn’t lost on her that Cato and Peeta are seen as the “real” bakers in town due to their culinary school degrees. _Like that makes a difference,_ she thinks.

Caesar announces that the contestants have ten minutes to prepare for Round One. Katniss trudges over to Gale, who looks as angry as she feels about the first twist.

“Hey Kat.” His voice is low. “Guess it’s too late to turn back now, right?”

“I can’t believe this,” she says through gritted teeth. “It was supposed to be us.”

He gazes at her with a soft look in his slate-grey eyes, and she takes a step back. Those looks are coming more and more often these days, and as a result Katniss has started turning down after-work invites to hang out with Gale. She can sense what he wants, but managing the bakery has always been too much to balance with a love life.

“This might actually be to our advantage.” Gale rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“Why would you think that?”

“We’re adaptable. And used to having the odds stacked against us.”

She smiles. “Unlike them.”

Katniss doubts any other team has worked harder to make it to the set of _The Twist_ than herself and Gale. They don’t have culinary degrees or family bakeries. Katniss’ father was a butcher, but he always made time to bake with her. It was their special thing, methodologically mixing ingredients and hunting for the best flavors. She remembers how he would laugh when she would suggest mixing strange ingredients together, like cherry cheesecake with citrus frosting. But he always let her do it, saying “Okay lady, let’s try it.” He called her and her sister Prim his little ladies, and every time she was in her kitchen she almost felt like she could hear his laughter again.

When her father passed, he’d left a small sum of money behind. Her mother had wanted to save it for the girls’ college funds, but Katniss knew that the funds would never last until then. Together with Gale, she opened Lady Cakes. Failure meant losing the last gift from her father, and the promise of Prim’s future. So she worked hard, and despite competition from Cato’s boutique wedding cake bakery and the well-established Mellark’s Bakery, Lady Cakes had hung on to life.

Katniss had fallen asleep in the back office more times than she could count, balancing the books and ordering supplies. Gale pestered her to hire more staff, but she’d always waved him off. Every penny saved would go to Prim.

She tries to think of the last time she slept for eight hours, or even for four. If she could win the prize money, she could finally hire someone part-time to help out. She could even consider taking business classes at night, so that she could figure out how to make the bakery actually thrive, instead of just surviving day to day.

She doesn’t just want to win the prize money from  _The Twist_. She _needs_ it.

Katniss glances across the way at Peeta, who’s hugging Delly good-bye. The break is almost over.

“Here.” Katniss opens her arms and nods at Gale. He raises his eyebrows but embraces her. She hugs him tight and then steps brusquely away.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” he says.

Reluctantly, she turns towards Peeta’s workstation. His eyes are on her, his face impassive.

“New teams, take your places!” thunders Caesar. Katniss scowls and marches towards Peeta. Cato and Clove are standing together already, smiling and laughing while the camera crews set up their opening shots. Katniss stands stiffly by Peeta’s side, maintaining two feet of space between them.

Of all the possible new teammates, of course she had to choose Peeta Mellark.

Katniss is so angry; she can barely even look at him. But Peeta isn’t saying anything, and patience has never been her virtue. She looks sideways at him, taking in his clenched jaw. At the same time, his eyes dart towards her. She huffs and looks away.

“This is ridiculous,” she mutters.

“You’re telling me,” he gripes. She turns, about to challenge him, when Caesar’s voice booms from across the studio.

Katniss stands numbly as Caesar introduces the Round’s parameters. Before the competition, she contemplated which recipe she would use in Round One, where each team has one hour to present their best batch of cookies. Katniss’ mouth is already watering in anticipation of the delicious double-chocolate brownie recipe her dad handed down, when her thoughts are interrupted.

“We should make a sugar cookie base with buttercream frosting,” Peeta says. She frowns.

“Everyone’s going to think of that. Let’s make brownies. It’s unexpected and I make some killer double-chocolate ones.” Katniss can practically smell them, but Peeta shakes his head.

“Brownies? Are you joking? It’s the cookie round!”

“Brownies are technically classified as cookies,” she snaps.

He rolls his eyes. “Technically, but it’s better to play it safe. When Delly and I were preparing for this round, we agreed –”

“Well, I’m your partner now. And brownies taste way better.” While they’re wasting time arguing, she can see Cato and Clove are already mixing up ingredients.

Peeta follows her gaze. “We’re running out of time. We can make sugar cookies in half the time of brownies, and focus on the decorations to impress the judges.” Katniss scowls, although she won’t admit out loud that he has a point. Peeta seems to take her silence as agreement, and shoves past her. “It’ll work. You start on the dry ingredients, and I’ll prep the frosting.”

Katniss balls her hands into fists. _Damn him and his sugar cookies._ She glances at the giant countdown clock that hangs over their heads. With the time it would take to prepare and bake the batter for her brownies…she could make it. Just.

Katniss whips her head towards the pantry and her braid thuds reassuringly against her back.

She’ll make her brownies without him.

Katniss had just cracked the eggs into her batter when she notices Peeta rummaging through the pantry shelves closest to their workstation. He runs a hand through his hair, then glances over at Cato. She watches incredulously as he walks to Cato’s worktable, and sees Peeta’s shoulders shake with laughter at something Cato says. Her nails bite her palms when Cato hands over a jar of confectioner’s sugar.

Katniss can feel heat clawing up her neck. Did Cato steal all of the confectioner’s sugar from the pantry? She would bet good money that if she’d been the one asking for help, Cato would’ve laugh in her face. But of course, Peeta Mellark could convince even a jerk like Cato to hand over a crucial ingredient.

Peeta hustles back to their tables with the jar under his arm. He doesn’t spare her a glance until she plants herself in front of him, putting her hands on her waist.

“What the hell was that?” she nearly yells.

“What?” His blue eyes are wide, as if he actually doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“Fraternizing with the enemy now, are we?”

Peeta slams the jar down on the counter.

“Do you have a problem?” he growls.

“Yeah, with you and Cutthroat Cakes over there.” Katniss jabs her spoon in the direction of Cato.

Peeta strides towards her and Katniss instinctively takes a step back, bumping into the counter behind her. Peeta’s hands slam down on the counter on either side of her. She looks up at him in astonishment.

“Listen, Everdeen.” Peeta’s eyes are bright with anger. “I’m here to win. If that means playing nice with the idiots over there, then I’ll do what it takes.” Katniss doesn’t move a muscle. “Even if that means dealing with _you_.”

He storms off to the far side of their station, and begins to angrily arrange the piping bags. Katniss lets out a breath.

Well.

At least he’s serious.

Ten minutes later, Katniss has just popped the batter in the oven when Peeta walks up to her.

“Try this.” Peeta shoves a spoonful of frosting at Katniss. Mechanically, she opens her mouth. He raises an eyebrow, and she realizes too late that he’d been holding out the spoon for her to grab.

She makes every effort to keep her face neutral so as not to give him the satisfaction of knowing the buttercream is delectable, light and fluffy on her tongue. She wonders if she could watch him and get some tips to take back to her bakery. She shakes her head. _She_ isn’t a thief.

“Well?” Peeta tilts his head to the side.

“It’s fine,” she grunts.

The almost civil exchange reminds her of how they first met, when Peeta wandered into her bakery the summer before Harvest Fest. She knew of him as the owner of Mellark’s Bakery, and had thought of him as competition. But that day as he chatted away while admiring the cakes in her display case, she’d had a hard time seeing him as the enemy. It was even harder when Peeta had let her know about a baking convention in the spring, asking if he could call her with the details. Katniss had even given him the number of the bakery.

After her loss at Harvest Fest, Gale said that he’d never met someone as fake as Peeta Mellark. She had to agree.

Katniss watches Peeta retreat to his side of the counter, his head bowed in concentration. He mixes up what looks like twenty different shades of food coloring to combine with the frosting. She hasn’t even thought about decorating the brownies. She glances wildly around for inspiration and catches sight of Gale, who is pointing and shouting at the oven in his station while Delly takes a pan out of it. To Katniss’ surprise, Delly actually turns on her heel and shouts back at Gale.

At least their oven isn’t actively smoking, like the one in the station of Marvel and – what was her name? Katniss frowns in concentration. The tall blonde woman standing next to Marvel frantically reaches for a fire extinguisher, while Marvel covers his eyes with his hands.

“Looks like our teams are off to a rocky start!” Caesar crows at the other end of the studio, while the judges frown down from their raised platform. Haymitch Abernathy actually looks concerned as he stares in the direction of the smoke that twists through the air. Next to him sits Cinna, a rock star who recently released a cook book as part of his lifestyle merchandise. Katniss doesn’t like to admit it, but she bought his book out of curiosity and found the recipes to be understated yet delicious.

The oven timer dings, and Katniss grabs her oven mitts, determined not to let her brownies go up in flames.

She had just stuck a toothpick into the batter when she hears Peeta approaching.

“You’ve been making brownies? Literally behind my back?”

She whirls around and sees Peeta glaring at her. “And you think _Cato’s_ a backstabber?”

Katniss recoils. “Well, at least I didn’t order you around after making a unilateral decision!”

“It was the right decision!” He points at her gooey batter. “They’re taking too long!”

Katniss shoves the tray back into the oven. “They’ll be fine. At least I’m not making tasteless sugar cookies!”

Peeta takes a deep breath.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll frost the stupid brownies, and we’ll give them to the judges, since clearly that’s what you want,” he spits.

Her face burns. She turns away, furiously cleaning her station so she doesn’t have to look at him. She hears Peeta stomp away.

With two minutes left on the brownie timer, Katniss gathers all of the ingredients and heads towards the shelves closest to their workstation. In her haste, she bumps into Clove.

“Watch it,” snarls Clove. The shorter woman glances down, and Katniss follows her gaze. The lid on her oil jar must’ve come loose, because a puddle of it is now on the ground.

“Better clean that up.” Clove snickers. “Wouldn’t want someone getting hurt!”

Katniss opens her mouth to respond but her oven timer dings. She shoves everything on a pantry shelf and rushes back, careful to avoid the puddle of oil.

The comforting smell of brownies greets her, and it’s like she’s back in her old kitchen with her father, hearing his laughter as they bake together. She shakes her head to rid herself of the memory, and her father’s laughter fades.

“Are they ready?” Peeta demands, gripping a piping bag in one hand. Katniss nods and no sooner has she placed the brownies on the counter then Peeta starts to frost at a breathtaking rate. Glancing at the clock, she realizes they only have ten minutes left.

“I’ll get the plates,” she says, and runs to place them out.

Five minutes before the end of Round One, the pace in the kitchen is frantic. The acrid smell of smoke wafts over from Marvel’s station, and Katniss hears Gale’s voice rumbling like thunder.

Annoyingly, Cato and Clove are already finished, and are busy brushing flour off of each other’s clothes. Katniss rolls her eyes.

“Are we ready?” Peeta looks at her for confirmation. She nods, and they separate the brownies onto three plates in preparation for the judges. Somehow, Peeta has managed to frost delicate indigo and violet flowers onto each brownie, framing them with tiny green leaves.

“Time’s up!” Caesar announces. “Contestants, put your creations out for the judges!”

Katniss wipes the sweat from her forehead. Between the heat of the ovens, the lights of the studio, and the cameras clicking, she can feel her hands shaking with nerves. It’s up to the judges now.

Katniss and Peeta stand side by side behind the counter of their workstation. The tension in the studio rises like smoke, and Katniss feels her throat grow tight. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Gale’s jaw set and Delly’s worried expression as Caesar gleefully leads the judges towards the first station.

“Cato and Clove, why don’t you tell the judges what you’ve made for them today?”

Caesar’s voice echoes throughout the studio, but Katniss can barely make out what the judges are saying. She can, however, see their faces – Cinna is smiling, and Haymitch nods as he bites into his cookie. Effie actually claps her hands in delight.

Peeta shifts beside her, raising a fist to his temple in frustration. Katniss looks down at their plates. She knows the brownies will taste good, but they hadn’t been cool enough to be frosted. Peeta’s careful frosting is melting, streams of blue and purple dripping down the sides of the brownies. Katniss grits her teeth. If the other teams are as good as Cato and Clove, she can say good-bye to the prize money.

“Next up, Katniss and Peeta!” Caesar leads the judges towards them and Katniss’ heart starts to pound. She would never sell melted-frosting brownies at her own bakery, and now she’s about to serve them to world-class bakers.

Cinna, Haymitch and Effie line up on the other side of their counter, and the camera crew sets up around them to capture their reactions. Katniss tries not to throw up.

“So, what do we have here?” Caesar looks at them in interest.

“Today we’ve made double-fudge brownies with vanilla bean buttercream frosting.” Peeta’s voice is smooth, his hands clasped in front of him, although Katniss can see his right thumb repeatedly tracing a pattern over the knuckles of his left hand. They wait in tense silence as the judges each take a bite.

Her eyes dart from face to face as the judges seem to take an inordinately long time to chew.  
She can’t remember if people normally take this much time to eat. Katniss’ hands are sweating, and she tries to dry them on her apron but ends up coating them with flour that was clinging to her apron instead. Her eyes widen and then she sees a cameraman angling to get closer to her. She relaxes her expression and shoves her hands in her apron pockets.

She’s just started to count the seconds in her head but is mercifully interrupted by Haymitch.

“Well this is…unusual,” says Haymitch. “Normally we don’t see brownies in the cookie round.” His face is unreadable.

“It’s a risk, but I think it paid off,” says Cinna. “Often brownies are too sweet, but you made the chocolate the star of this dish.” He gives Katniss a small smile and she manages a weak smile in return.

“The flavor is balanced,” agrees Effie. “But the frosting. It’s gorgeous!” she squeals.

Haymitch snorts. “The part that hasn’t melted. The brownies should have had more time to cool.” He frowns, and Katniss feels her stomach clench. She doesn’t dare look at Peeta.

As Caesar ushers the judges towards the next station, Katniss clenches her hands. They’ll be lucky if they make it to the next round.

Of course if she had to lose, she would want Gale’s team to win. Gale and Delly have in fact made sugar cookies, and Katniss manages to catch some of the judge’s critique.

“You may have played it safe, but the execution was flawless,” compliments Cinna, and Gale beams. Katniss knows Gale can make sugar cookies in his sleep, as could any baker worth their salt.

“This decoration is a nice addition,” says Haymitch, and Katniss cranes her neck but can’t see what they added.

If she makes it to the next round, Katniss swears to herself that she and Gale would make it all the way to the final bake-off. However, she’s not sure whether this round’s twist would apply only to the cookie round, or to the entire competition. She couldn’t see how it would be fair if she and Peeta were eliminated, and then Cato and Clove were switched back to their original partners. Would Delly and Gale still have to work together? Wouldn’t that give the other two teams an unfair advantage?

She can’t stop herself letting out a groan as the truth dawns on her. This twist will have to last all competition to make it fair. Peeta looks at her.

“What?” he whispers.

“If we make it to the next round…” she says. “The partners are going to stay the same.”

“Finally worked that out, did you?” Peeta looks so dejected, he doesn’t even sound spiteful. “Then maybe it’s lucky we’re going to be put out of our misery.”

The last station is Marvel’s. Katniss wonders if they were able to salvage anything from the fire that broke out at their station. It seems they’ve managed to put something together, because Haymitch is gesturing at his plate as he leans forward, and Effie is nodding in agreement. Cinna says something and Marvel laughs. Katniss looks away, swallowing.

“It’s time for the final judging,” says Caesar. “Bakers, please step forward.”

The four teams line up in front of the judges. Katniss catches Gale’s eye and they exchange worried looks. Hopefully she’ll have time to say good-bye before she and Peeta are ushered off set.

“Bakers, the judges have made their final decision. Effie?” Caesar nods at Effie, who steps forward in agonizing slow motion. She pauses dramatically, and the studio falls silent.

“While mistakes were made by each team during this round, the deciding factor came down to presentation. There were many ambitious efforts, but one team’s creation just didn’t make the cut.” Effie looks right at Katniss and Peeta. This is it, Katniss thinks.

“Unfortunately, one team was not able to save their cookie from going up in flames. Glimmer and Marvel, you’ve been eliminated.”

Katniss had already turned to leave the studio when she feels Peeta’s hand on her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” he says. “We made it.”

She looks at him, the shock on her face mirrored on his.

“I can’t believe it,” is all she can say.

“Me neither.” He lets his hand drop.

Katniss knows she should be elated, but it also means she’ll have to go through another round with Peeta and face the judges again. But a sudden spark of hope flames in her chest, and she realizes that perhaps they could do it. If he could be less pushy and listen to her, maybe they could actually make it to the end.

“To our remaining bakers, congratulations!” Caesar says. “It’s time to get back to your workstations. You have fifteen minutes to prepare for the next round!”

In shock, Katniss returns to their station and begins to clear the used mixing bowls, while Peeta grabs ingredients to reset on the shelves. As she watches him walk away, she pauses in concentration, clutching the steel bowls to her chest.

There was something she forgot to do, but what was it?

It’s too late by the time she realizes that the oil is still on the ground. Distracted, Peeta steps right into it.

The next thing she sees is Peeta falling backwards, his head hitting the floor.

She hears a clattering that sounds like metallic raindrops, and realizes she’s dropped everything she was carrying. She tries to move towards him, but her legs won’t work.

She didn’t mean for it to happen.

Katniss may not like Peeta, but she never meant to _hurt_ him. At least, not physically.

But as Peeta lies motionless on the floor of their workstation, all she can do is stare at him. Time moves in slow motion as she sees the producers rush towards him, and she hears Delly cry out from across the studio.

One thought keeps replaying over and over in her head.

_It’s all my fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this chapter :)
> 
> Special thanks to my beta Heilb for her superb attention to detail and support. She has been delightful to work with, and I am so lucky we are on this road together!
> 
> Also, thank you to my beta 2ee, who while editing inexplicably refuses to call Peeta anything other than “Bread”, but is amazing anyway. ;)


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